


The Post-it Poet

by destielonfire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Dean Works in a Store, Fluff, Librarian Castiel, Love Confessions, Love Poems, M/M, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 16:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7626241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielonfire/pseuds/destielonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a secret admirer who is leaving love poems for him at the store when he works. Although flattered, after a few months Dean's had enough, and decides to hatch a plan to catch the guy and find out who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Post-it Poet

Dean! He’s left another note!” At Charlie’s excited cry, Dean looked up from where he was restocking the washing powder and eagerly abandoned his task to go and see what his mystery admirer had left for him this time.

It had started a few months ago, when Garth had found the first note taped to the side of the cash register, hidden from view and only discovered after closing time when they were cleaning. The note had simply said:

_He was a phantom of delight_  
_when first he gleaned upon my sight_  
_A lovely apparition, sent_  
_to be a moment's ornament_  
_His eyes as stars of twilight fair_

To his own embarrassment and the delight of his co-workers, Dean’s first reaction had been to blush violently. He’d quickly snatched up the post-it and crumpled it in his hand. “Alright, alright haha very funny guys. Who was it?” He looked accusingly at Garth, Kevin, and Charlie, who all looked completely innocent. Which, Dean thought, had to mean one of them was guilty.

“Hey, don’t look at us!” Charlie said, holding up both of her hands with her palms facing Dean. “Is it so hard to believe you might have a secret admirer, Dean?” She caught Kevin’s eye. “I mean, Lord knows what they see in your dumb ass but it’s a fact that the demographics at your queue always skew very much in favour of the fairer sex. Right Kev?”

Kevin nodded in agreement, as did Garth. It was well-known that women tended to favour Dean’s register over any other cashier’s, even accepting a longer wait as long as they could be the recipient of a patented Dean Winchester smile and a “have a nice day”. His co-workers never missed an opportunity to tease him about this.

“It’s Wordsworth,” Garth said, examining the crumpled piece of paper Dean had dropped on the ground. Dean hadn’t even seen him pick it up.

“What?”

“William Wordsworth. You know, the English romantic poet? Lived in the 18th and 19th century?” Garth raised his eyebrows at Dean’s flat stare.

“Yeah, I’m not much into poetry…” Dean trailed off, embarrassed even though he had no reason to be.

“Well,” Garth continued, “this is one of his poems. But the funny thing is, it was actually written for his then future wife. The pronouns have been changed.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Charlie said, taking the post-it from Garth and examining it more closely. Kevin walked up to stand next to her so he could examine it too.

“Hey, guys,” Kevin said hesitantly, “I know a thing or two about different kinds of handwriting because I used to be really into calligraphy and different scripts, and in my opinion this looks a lot like a man’s handwriting.”

“Really?” Charlie squeaked, “Ooooh the plot thickens!”

“Guys, just stop okay? I really don’t care if it’s a man or a woman or an alien from outer space,” Dean said, snatching back the post-it and slipping it into his back pocket. “If they want to get to know me, they should just have the guts to come up to me and ask me out or something. Not do this. Now let’s forget it ever happened” With that, he stalked off to finish closing so he could go home.

* * *

Over the next few months, Dean’s mystery admirer, whom his co-workers had _hilariously_ dubbed “William”, left a note about once a week. They were mostly love poems from various poets – Blake, Rimbaud, Ginsberg, Whitman,…but sometimes also quotes from books. The fact that most of the poets were known for their homoerotic works seemed to lend credence to Kevin’s suspicion that it was in fact a man who was leaving these notes.

Not that Dean had a problem with that. He’d been out for a few years now, and was comfortable with his bisexuality. He just wished the guy would show his face because at this point it was getting ridiculous.

He also didn’t know when his feelings about the notes had morphed from exasperation and annoyance to excitement. The fact of the matter was that the notes were incredibly flattering and a gigantic ego-boost. Charlie had taken to punching him in the arm every time he looked up from reading another note aloud because she couldn’t stand the smug expression on his face.

After the third note, Garth had asked Dean if he would be interested in at least going out on a date with the guy if he ever revealed his identity. Dean had seriously considered the question. Normally, he would’ve immediately said yes, because even if the guy wasn’t his type, he’d gone through all this trouble and Dean figured he deserved a chance at least. But something stopped him from agreeing so easily. Or rather, someone.

Castiel Novak. His insanely hot neighbour with the sex hair and deep, gravelly voice and strange obsession with wearing a tattered tan trenchcoat no matter what the weather was like, that Dean had had a crush on ever since he moved in next door about eight months ago. They didn’t speak much – which made Dean’s crush all the more pathetic – but let’s just say that Castiel had been the star of quite a few fantasies of his. Dean really wanted to get to know him better, but their schedules just didn’t seem to match up, and often they went days without actually seeing each other outside of work.

Like everyone else in the neighbourhood, Castiel visited the supermarket to do his grocery shopping, usually coming in several times a week and always buying just enough food to last him a day or two. It wasn’t very efficient, and Dean had no idea why he didn’t just do what other people did and buy enough to last a week or at least three or four days. He figured the guy must have a flexible work schedule and/or he just liked grocery shopping. Come to think of it, Dean didn’t even know what Castiel did for a living. However, he had noticed that, without fail, Castiel always picked his checkout line. But they never exchanged more than a few warm greetings and shy smiles. Because Dean was a _coward_.

So yeah, he hadn’t seen Castiel much outside of when he was working. But he’d seen the man gently coax his cats to come back inside by making these adorable cooing noises that made Dean feel warm and fuzzy inside. Once, he saw Castiel help a little girl fix the lights on her bike. It was obvious that Castiel had a big heart to go with his looks, and Dean ached sometimes at the thought that he might never get to know him better if he didn’t just man up and get over his stupid shyness.

It was weird, because he wasn’t really a shy person by nature, and when he tried to pick up women (and occasionally men) in bars, he considered himself a pretty smooth talker. But there was just something about Castiel that made him insecure. He felt like he’d missed his window of opportunity to approach Castiel in the first month or two, and now it would be weird for him to just show up on the man’s doorstep and try to be friends.

And yet, his crush was stronger than ever, and though he tried to hide it from his friends and (especially) from Sam in fear that they would start to question _why_ , Dean hadn’t actually been on a date or gone home with someone since he met Castiel. He kind of hated himself for being so gone on a guy he didn’t even know, but it was what it was.

So Dean had brushed off Garth’s question with a muttered “maybe”, and promptly changed the subject.

* * *

That was then, though. Now…Dean thought he was ready to give this a shot. William obviously cared a lot about Dean, and while the whole situation was still a bit creepy, he just wanted to meet the guy and see if there was _something_.

“Let me see!” he snapped, snatching the note out of Charlie’s hands, ignoring her shout of protest. It was a longer note this time, taped to the side of one of the refrigeration units.

_Beloved gaze in thine own heart,_  
_the holy tree is growing there._  
_From joy the holy branches start,_  
_and all the trembling flowers they bear._

_The changing colors of its fruit_  
_have dowered the stars with merry light._  
_The surety of its hidden root_  
_has planted quiet in the night._

_The shaking of its leafy head_  
_has given the waves their melody._  
_And made my lips and music wed_  
_murmuring a wizard song for thee._

“Ooh it’s so beautiful,” Charlie crooned. “I don’t recognize it, though.” She turned to Garth, who’d just joined them. “Garth, any ideas?”

“What am I, a walking library?” Garth joked as he studied the note. “Nope, I don’t know this one.”

“Okay, give me a sec,” Charlie already had her phone out and was typing the first few lines into google. “Got it! It’s ‘The Two Trees’ by William Butler Yeats. Oh!” She shouted, excitedly, “Another William!”

Dean was rereading the note for the third time, trying to figure out what it meant. All this poetry stuff wasn’t really for him, truth be told. But he could sense that this was the only way William felt comfortable communicating with him, for now.

“I think it’s about inner beauty,” Garth said. Dean looked up at that, interested in what the other man had to say. “I think he’s saying that he sees this light and life inside of you that inspires him. Or something,” Garth finished a bit awkwardly.

“I think you’re right,” Charlie said, patting him on the back. “It’s such a beautiful sentiment. I know I’ve said this before, but this guy _really_ likes you, Dean.”

Dean was suddenly filled with frustration. _Enough_. He had to meet this guy. He had to _know_. “Charlie, Garth,” he said, grabbing their attention, “I’m gonna need your help.”

Dean took the note back from Garth, folded it carefully and put it in his back pocket.

“Let’s catch this guy.”

* * *

 

They’d planned the whole thing carefully, and everyone of his co-workers had agreed to help. The guy was sneaky, which is why they hadn’t caught him before. He came on busy days, during busy times, when every single employee was hard at work and just didn’t have the spare time to go hunting. So Dean brought in reinforcements. He’d briefed his best friends Benny and Victor on the situation, and after patiently enduring their merciless teasing for about half an hour, he’d gotten their agreement to help him. Victor being a cop and Benny having served in the army, they were confident they could catch the guy while pretending to be regular shoppers. The store employees were also on the lookout for anything suspicious, and would help alert Benny or Victor if they noticed anything. Dean had left careful instructions to everyone not to actually confront the guy, but to come and find him when they spotted him.

It had been five days since the last note, and if the pattern held (and why wouldn’t it) chances were great that William would leave another one today. Truth be told, Dean was freaking out a bit. But he just had to know. Normally, he would’ve been manning the cash register, but he’d switched with Kevin so he could spring into action more easily if something happened.

He was restocking toilet paper, trying not to think about the whole thing too much lest he lost his nerve to confront the guy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Benny come in the store. When their eyes met, Benny winked at him, before turning into the canned foods aisle. A few minutes later, Victor also entered, walking swiftly to the alcoholic beverages aisle.

For about half an hour, nothing much happened apart from a toddler smashing a bottle of juice on the floor, which Dean had to clean up. Then he saw Castiel enter through the sliding doors, which in and of itself wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary. Castiel didn’t exactly have set days when he would definitely come by, but Dean had noticed that Tuesdays were often a safe bet. Still, his presence here today made him jumpy and nervous. He didn’t want to see Castiel meet his mystery admirer. It would be awkward to say the least.

Nothing he could do about it though, so Dean just grimaced, gritted his teeth and returned to his restocking duties. Barely fifteen minutes later, he heard pounding feet getting steadily louder, a sure sign of someone running towards him. Heart pounding, Dean rounded the corner of the aisle and almost collided with Benny.

“Dean,” Benny hissed, pulling him aside and away from the curious glances of onlookers. “We’ve got him! We just saw him tape a note in the toys aisle, in-between the boxes of stuffed animals.”

Dean swallowed loudly. “What does he look like?”

“Really dark brown hair, almost as tall as you I reckon’, and a face that would make angels weep.” Benny grinned at him. “He’s a looker, that’s for sure. Oh,” he added, as if suddenly remembering something important, “and he wears this big tan trenchcoat, which is strange in this weather, wouldn’t you say?”

Dean froze in utter disbelief, his blood draining from his face. “He’s wearing…what?”

Benny was looking at him like he’d just grown a second head. “A light brown trenchcoat. Why? Does that mean anything to you?” He grabbed Dean’s shoulder and steadied him. “Dean, are you alright?”

Dean managed to shrug off the shock and started walking quickly to the toys aisle. “Yeah, Benny, I’m fine. Please tell the others that the ‘hunt’ is over and that I’ll just be a moment, okay?” he threw over his shoulder.

He was almost running now, desperate to catch the guy and find out once and for all who he was. He wouldn’t believe it till he saw it with his own eyes. When he reached the toys aisle, though, he found it empty. “Dean!” Victor said, grabbing Dean’s arm from behind and turning him around to face him. “He just left, man, just a minute ago. Without buying anything. But you told us not to confront him so I didn’t.”

Dean was panicking now, scanning the exit for a sign of that tan trenchcoat he’d grown to associate with Castiel. “Yeah Victor, you did good. You know which way he went?”

Victor pointed to the left of the exit, near where the store’s bicycle parking spaces were., the opposite side of the location of the car parking spaces “That way. but Dean…”

Dean didn’t catch the rest of what Victor said because he was already sprinting towards the exit, determined to catch up to the man. Running through the sliding doors while ignoring the raised eyebrows it got him from bewildered shoppers, he sped towards the bike stands. There! A flash of a tan brown coat, the owner of which was mostly hidden behind an opaque partition.

Dean took a deep breath as he stepped past the partition, finally coming face to face with the man who had been sending him what amounted to love notes for the past few months.

Startled sky blue eyes stared back at him.

“It’s…It’s you!” Dean croaked, feeling lightheaded again. “You’re William!”

Castiel raised a single quizzical eyebrow, quickly recovering from his obvious shock and smoothing his face into a blank, neutral expression. “I’m sorry? My name is Castiel.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly with Dean. “Don’t play dumb. I know your name is Castiel, we’re neighbours. But I also know you’re the guy that has been leaving notes for me all around the store!”

He pointed an accusing finger at Castiel. “Don’t try to deny it! My friends saw you leave one in the toy aisle just now!”

For a moment, they both stood completely still, as if frozen in time. Then, Castiel’s shoulders sagged and he bowed his head, obviously embarrassed. “I…Dean, you have to understand, I did it because…”

He stopped and lifted his head, looking at Dean. “Wait, why did you call me William, then? If you knew my name?”

“Um, well, the first poem you ever left me was written by Wordsworth, right? First name William?” Dean explained. Castiel nodded and motioned for him to continue. “So, my co-workers decided to call you William and I guess it just stuck in my head. It’s not like I could call you mystery admirer all the time. That’s such a mouthful.” He shot a quick smile at Castiel. “Kinda like your name, Cas.”

Castiel blushed and smiled back hesitantly, and at that moment Dean just wanted to forget about all of this and just take the other man home with him. Hell, they were talking now. This was more progress than they’d had in a long time! But he felt he deserved an explanation.

“Cas, why did you leave me all these notes? Why not just approach me? Am I that scary?” he joked.

Castiel sighed and sat down on a bike rack, next to what Dean just now noticed was a pretty nice bike. To keep them on even ground, Dean also sat down on a nearby bike rack.

“I don’t know if you know this, but I work in a library. Two, actually. Part time, though, so I have weird hours. The other part I…dabble a bit in writing.”

Dean was glad to finally know what Castiel did. And it didn’t surprise him at all. A librarian and a writer. Man, when all this was over he’d have a million more fantasies to add to his spank bank.

“I…noticed you immediately when I moved in,” Castiel continued, smiling wryly. “How could I not? You have this _glow_ about you that just draws people in. You shine like a star, Dean Winchester. And I knew then that I wanted to know you.”

Dean was the one blushing now. “Jesus Cas, you can’t just _say_ things like that!”

“Why not?” Castiel shrugged. “I may as well lay all my cards on the table. It’s not like you don’t already know how I feel about you. You _have_ been reading my notes, after all. In any case, when I asked around discreetly, everyone had nothing but good things to say about you. Many people look up to you and love you, Dean, I hope you know that. But the more I heard people praise you, the less confident I felt in approaching you.”

He shifted a bit, clearly uncomfortable on the hard bike rack. “I am not exactly a ‘people person’, as they say. I have very few friends, and the ones I do have, I have known since my childhood. I don’t go out much and don’t socialize often, and the work I do in the library is mostly inventorying and archiving. I don’t often interact with people.”

Dean was kind of in awe at what Castiel was sharing with him. It almost felt like a penance, an apology for having been so secretive all this time. He was opening himself up to Dean and allowing himself to be vulnerable, knowing that he might get rejected. Suddenly Dean saw an image of Castiel’s hurt, rejected face flash through his mind and his stomach churned. Whatever happened next, he couldn’t let it end like that.

Castiel was still talking, seemingly unable to stop now that the words had pouring out of him. “I know books, Dean. I know poems and novels and biographies and textbooks. They bring me comfort. And through them I figured out a way to reach out to you. I am sorry I couldn’t do it in a more private way. I realize your co-workers must have teased you a lot about it. But I couldn’t figure out another way to get the notes to you in an anonymous setting that couldn’t be easily traced back to me.”

Without a conscious thought, Dean reach out to Castiel and laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Cas. Yes, they teased me about it, but it wasn’t all bad. It was actually kind of fun reading all those different poems and trying to figure out what they meant. You, uh, were actually the reason why I went out and bought a few books about poetry,” Dean confessed.

The bright smile he received in return was enough to make Dean send up a silent prayer of thanks that he’d thought to admit this to Castiel. He knew he could be happy for a while just basking in the warmth of that smile.

“Really,” Castiel said eagerly, “which books did you buy?”

“Well, I really liked Whitman and Ginsberg so I bought a few books about their work,” Dean replied.

Castiel hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, I can see why you would enjoy their work. I’d hazard a guess and say that you would also like Kerouac. Have you read him?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah man, I love ‘On The Road’!”

Castiel looked like he was about to launch into a literary discussion, and though Dean would like nothing more than to go somewhere where they could be more comfortable and talk about Kerouac and Vonnegut and Ginsberg all day (and wasn’t that something new for him!), they still needed to hash this thing out.

“Cas,” he said firmly, forestalling Castiel’s next question. “I need to know: were you ever planning on revealing yourself to me? And what is it that you really want?”

Dean could see Castiel take a deep breath and brace himself. Then he reached out and took Dean’s hand in his own. “I was going to eventually leave a place, date and time on one of the notes with a request to meet up. In fact, I was planning on doing it much sooner. It was never meant to go on this long. But I kept losing my nerve.”

He squeezed Dean’s hand gently. “I’m actually relieved you ‘caught’ me. Now I can finally find the courage to ask you if you would like to come around my house for tea or coffee sometime. Or, if you prefer, we could go out somewhere. But I have special honey from a friend who is an apiarist and I would love for you to ta-“

Castiel was cut off by a warm, wet mouth pressing down on his own. After a few seconds, Dean gently pulled back just enough to stop the kiss but not so far that he couldn’t feel Castiel’s breath on his skin anymore.

“Is this okay, Cas? I’m sorry if I crossed a line here but I’ve had a crush on you for months now and I just can’t believe we’ve wasted all this damn time being cowards when we could’ve been kissing and getting to know each other,” Dean said, somehow sounding frustrated and fond at the same time.

Castiel’s mouth fell open in shock. “You…liked me all this time? You wanted to kiss me?”

“Yeah Cas”, Dean replied, his voice low and a bit hoarse, pulling back a little more. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you from the moment I saw you. You and your strange trenchcoat immediately fascinated the hell out of me. But our schedules didn’t seem to match up and we never talked much in the first month, and after a while it just seemed like I’d missed my shot, you know?”

Castiel nodded soberly. “It seems we have both been going about this all wrong.”

“I’ll say,” Dean said, suddenly perking up. “But hey, you know what the good part about this is?” he asked, drawing close again.

“No,” Castiel whispered as Dean stopped mere inches from his lips.

Dean grinned, then, bringing one hand up to gently grab the back of Castiel’s head, burying his fingers in his hair, and the other hand to curl around Castiel’s biceps.

“Now I know what gets you all hot and bothered. And you bet your ass I’m going to be using that knowledge in the near future. That is,” he added, “if you’ll let me.”

A playful twinkle appeared in Castiel’s eyes, and right before he closed the distance between their lips, he said,

“Shut up and kiss me Dean Winchester.”

* * *

Three years later, when Dean asks Castiel to marry him in the middle of the supermarket, he prefaces it with a whispered “this is payback, Cas” before whipping out the most clichéd, purple prose he could find and making it into a performance that was so over the top that by the end they’re both gasping with laughter, desperately trying to catch their breath.

Later that night, when Dean is covering Castiel with soft kisses and whispering his real proposal into his lover’s skin, he finally gets his answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. If you liked it, I will love you forever if you leave a comment (one word is enough!) and/or kudos. Come say hi to me on tumblr at [destielonfire](http://destielonfire.tumblr.com) where you can also find more drabbles that I haven't posted here.


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